She put on a pale woollen dress with matching shoes and small leather belt. She grabbed a warm winter coat and her clutch bag and applied some make up. When she stepped out in to the High Street, the coldness of the February air burnt her cheeks. The sun was shinning but it was still bitterly cold. She started to walk briskly to get the circulation going in her feet. She could hear her footsteps falling in line with all the other busy shoppers on that Saturday morning, eager to get their last purchases from the winter sales.
She decided that as it was her birthday, she would hail a cab. The Planetarium was not far and it seemed a shame to scuff her shoes getting there.
“Where to luv?” said the taxi driver.
“The Planetarium, Baker Street please.” She said.
“That’s the popular place next to Madame Tussauds. I wouldn’t mind taking the wife there.” He replied.
The warm heaters of the taxi blasted out at her bringing a warm glow to her cheeks. The taxi driver narrowly missed a pedestrian as he turned in to Marylebone. As they pulled up outside Madame Tussauds, she could see a large queue snaking round the corner.
“You still want me to drop you off here luv? It looks like you are in for a wait.” The taxi driver said.
“Yes thanks. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“That will be five shillings miss.”
She handed him his change for the fare and braved the cold streets of London again. The queue was about half a mile long and you could see that some of the children were getting restless. Funny enough she’d never thought about having children. Life had sort of passed her by between the ages of twenty-one and forty-two. She’d met a few boyfriends along the way but none of them were ready to commit or were already married. It seemed society was becoming more liberal as far as women were concerned, now that the contraceptive pill was becoming freely available.
Marjorie took a place at the end of the queue and waited. After standing still for about twenty minutes she received a tap on the shoulder from the gentleman behind her. He was dressed smartly in a dark blue suit and a cashmere overcoat.
“Excuse me,” he said tapping a cigarette on his silver cigarette case. “You wouldn’t happen to have a light perhaps?”
She slowly retained her composure whilst she opened her clutch bag and carefully took out a pewter lighter given to her by her parents. She handed it to him and he offered her a cigarette which she accepted. They stood in silence whilst they smoked, unable to come up with anything to say.
“Strange to think this place was built on the site of an old cinema that was destroyed in the Second World War.” He remarked.
“I know. It is sort of fitting to be reminded of the universe and how small we all are twenty years on.” She replied.
“I thought I’d give this place a bash, see if it is a place my boys would like to go to,” he finally conjectured.
“Oh, you are married?” Marjorie replied far too quickly.
“No, divorced actually. Awful predicament. I don’t get to see them, you see, except on alternate weekends.”
“Oh I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
A silence ensued. She could see his eyes steering towards the wedding finger on her left hand. By now she deduced that he could certainly see she was single. She suddenly blurted out.
“I was married once, more of a shot gun wedding as it transpired. I suppose the war was to blame. I ended up spending more time with my husband’s father than my husband.”
The queue slowly edged forward. A teacher in front of them was trying to control a bunch of unruly school children. Some were playing with make-shift catapults from elastic bands, throwing bits of chewing gum at the teacher.
“So why, if you don’t mind me asking, have you come here by yourself?” he asked hesitantly. “I am sure you are not short of suitors.”
“No,” she blushed, the crimson etching in on her cheeks. “I’m celebrating.”
“What celebrating on your own?”
“Something like that.”
Marjorie didn’t want to let on to this gentleman that it was her forty-second birthday. It seemed old. She didn’t feel any different to when she was seventeen, but somehow being in your forties, unmarried and with no children, seemed like a failure and she didn’t want to impart this, just yet, on this chance encounter.
“I can’t stand queuing, it seems such a waste of life.”
“I know, but the queue seems to be gathering pace now.”
At that moment, a porter blew his whistle and ushered them to a second entrance which had just been opened. As they pushed forward, stubbing out their cigarettes, the gentleman put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Listen, I hope you don’t think I’m being presumptuous, but I would like to grab a spot of lunch afterwards.” He paused as if catching his breath. “That’s if you feel like celebrating with a complete stranger.”
The crowd was now gathering momentum behind them. She touched his warm cashmere coat, returning his gaze for a second, and said.
“I’d love to.”
They entered the building and after paying for their tickets were led by the attendant to a large auditorium. The place was pitch dark and Marjorie clung onto the gentleman’s arm as they edged towards their seats on the front row. They had to strain their necks to look up at the huge hemispherical ceiling illuminating the 360 degrees night sky.
“I’m a little nervous.” She said.
“You shouldn’t be. I think the whole experience is meant to be one of wonderment.”
The forty-five minute show started with a series of constellations, lighting up before the audience. There were gasps as a myriad of glimmering lights lit up the roof to the booming voice of the narrator informing them about the universe.
“You know there are a billion galaxies up there,” the gentleman whispered in to her ear.
“I know. It makes us feel so insignificant.” She replied.
When the show finally finished, they slowly walked with the rest of the crowd to the exit. Marjorie had to shield her eyes from the brightness of the daylight as they hit the pavement.
“You forget it is still daytime when you’re inside there.” She remarked.
“It reminds me of coming out of the cinema.”
“I don’t even know your name.” She said.
“Arthur.”
They grabbed a cab and set off to his favorite French restaurant in Leicester Square. Whilst he paid the taxi driver Marjorie stood outside the discreet entrance with a canopy inscribed with the name of the restaurant “L’Escargot”. He held her hand as they ascended the steps to a small dark room filled with waiters dressed head to toe in black and white.
They showed them to a small table in the corner, by the window, overlooking the busy theatregoers below.
“It’s a shame it’s February, otherwise I would have taken you out on the terrace. You can just about see the National Gallery and St Martin’s church from the roof top.”
“Oh this is just perfect.” She replied.
The waiters took their coats and they sat down at the table. They ordered two gin and tonics. As the drinks fizzed around the chunky ice cubes, they clinked their glasses.
“You never told me what we are celebrating?” He smiled.
“My birthday.”
“Happy Birthday.” He beamed. “I won’t ask you your age if you won’t ask mine. I suspect I am considerably older, though not wiser than you in years. In any event, I wouldn’t want to appear rude.”
“Thanks.”
Marjorie had snails for the first time and he ordered a very expensive bottle of wine.
“So why the Planetarium?” He asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said twisting her tiny silver fork between her fingers. “I’m looking forward to seeing that new David Lean film, Doctor Zhivago, but it isn’t out in the cinemas yet.”
“Isn’t that based on Boris Pasternak’s novel about a protagonist, Yuri Zhiv
ago, a medical doctor who is torn between two women, during the Russian revolution?”
“You’re very knowledgeable.”
“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid, when you’ve been Public School educated, like me. Not that I enjoyed the experience.”
“Did you enjoy University?” She asked.
“Loved it. I was at Trinity College, Cambridge.”
“I wish I’d been to University. The war got in the way of that.”
“Where would you have gone?”
“Oh I had a place at the Sorbonne in Paris.” Marjorie said ruefully. If truth be known she would have loved to have gone there.
“Sometimes life is not so kind to us. At least we both came out of the war unscathed. I was too old for service.”
“I know I lost many friends, in the air force who were shot down. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
The waiter came past and removed their plates. He proceeded to pour them some more wine.
“Do you think that like the stars that we saw in the show, that is what happens when we die?” asked Marjorie, smoothing down her napkin. “I often wonder about servicemen during the war, what happened to them.”
“There are some who believe that when your time has come it has come.”
“I don’t know. It seems so unfair. My best friend in the WRENS was shot down in a Lancaster bomber over the Channel. I can’t imagine how awful her last minutes must have been, drowning.”
“I think that looking at the stars can offer us some comfort.”
They were the last to leave the restaurant that day.
“Thank you for buying me lunch.” Marjorie said, letting Arthur put on her overcoat.
“The pleasure was mine I can assure you. I don’t know if you’ve had enough of me yet, but do you fancy taking a walk through the parks? It’s still light and I fancy working off lunch if you are up for it.”
“I’d love to.” She replied.
They took a stroll through Leicester Square and then down Piccadilly to Green Park. They both remarked on how vibrant London had now become. They passed through the heaving crowds of shoppers and narrowly missed cyclists as they ran across red traffic lights. As the light began to fade, they marvelled at the brightly lit billboards adorning the streets. The city had moved on since the war and was now full of young people again. It may have been Marjorie’s forty-second birthday but she didn’t feel it in this environment. She hadn’t had so much fun for awhile. The shops were full of the new spring collections. It was hard to think that spring would be coming soon on that cold February day. They stopped off at Fortnum and Masons and browsed round the food store. They bought a small box of chocolates and a tin of Fortnum’s biscuits, just to say they’d been there.
Finally when they were too tired to talk any more he ordered her a cab home.
“I will be able to see you again won’t I?”
Marjorie reached down in her bag for a small card with her details on it.
“Thanks for a lovely day,” she replied, handing him her details.
He gently stroked her cheek with one finger and then blew her a kiss.
“Until next time.”
And with that the taxi drove off. She didn’t dare look back, in case she appeared too eager. She knew without a doubt she wanted to see this man again.
MIRIAM 1965
DUBLIN
THE NEXT MORNING Miriam awoke at her sister’s flat. Her boyfriend had not turned up last night as promised and she was fuming.
“Why are men such bastards, sis? He could have phoned or something. He just keeps me hanging on the whole time.”
Miriam was nursing a cup of coffee, reminiscing about last night’s events. She took out the card he had given her from her bag. Should she phone him or would that look too eager? She hadn’t given him her number so he couldn’t phone her, but maybe he could get her number from Pat and Humphrey as they appeared to know him. She was meant to be starting a new job next week, with Brown Thomas in fashion. She couldn’t afford to be distracted with a new love in her life. Yet her heart ached to see him again. Caution advised her that this man had baggage. He had been married before and had children. Was it right to get involved with an older man? Would he ever commit if things got serious? What would happen if she found herself falling in love with this guy? She put all such thoughts to the back of her mind for fearing the answers.
“So are you going to give this guy Len a call then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well I saw him give you his card last night. He must want to see you again?”
“I don’t want to appear too keen.”
“Oh, so it is serious then?”
“Maybe.”
“Well don’t let him treat you the way my Patrick treats me. You deserve more than that sis.”
Miriam drained her cup of coffee and put it on the sideboard next to the sink. It was another dull day outside in Dublin. The streets were grey and the skies were heavy with rain. This was her last weekend, before she was due to start her job next week. The pay was going to be good and she was excited at the opportunity it was going to give her. Both her sister and her wanted to gain some work experience before setting up their own company in fashion design. Her sister was good with her hands and a great seamstress. All they needed was a lucky break in the Industry. Brown Thomas was one of the leading dress companies in Dublin at the time. It was right in the centre of Dublin next to the Grand Hotel. Her sister’s apartment was only a stones throw from the centre.
Miriam’s sister had been dating Patrick for about six months now and it was getting quite serious. She hadn’t introduced him to their parents, but they knew of him. They were still in their early twenties and whilst they didn’t want to settle down just yet, knew that their parents would only ever approve of a long term relationship if it was heading for marriage. Ireland was staunchly Catholic in those days. Her father had converted to Catholicism after marrying their mother and they were all brought up to be strict Catholics. They went to Church every Sunday and said their Hail Mary’s. They had attended a formal Catholic School in Macroom.
“What shall we do today?”
“I fancy a bit of shopping.”
“You not going to phone him then?”
“Not today. Anyway he has given me his work number so I guess I won’t until next week sometime.”
That weekend Miriam couldn’t stop thinking about him. Thoughts of their chance encounter consumed her mind. They passed through store after store often trailing the men’s departments before entering the ladies. She spied suits that she thought he would buy or wear. She bought a few dresses that she knew would look good on her if she next saw him. The stores were heaving that day with people looking for the latest trendy garments. Christmas was only three months away and some people were starting their Christmas shopping early. The shops weren’t decked out with Christmas decorations just yet, but the feel of winter approaching had begun. Miriam needed to shop to distract her thoughts of him. Was he thinking about her like she was thinking about him? When would he have to go back to South Africa? How was she going to cope with a long distance relationship if they ended up having one?
“I’m exhausted. Shall we go for a drink?”
And so they made their way to the pub that they had been to the night before, but there was no sign of him there that evening. Maybe he was still jet lagged, or maybe he was out on the town with some mates or maybe he was dining with some woman somewhere in a fancy restaurant? She couldn’t bear the thought of him being with someone else.
“Are you seeing Patrick tonight? Miriam asked.
“I gave him such a bollocking for last night. He’s making it up to me by taking me to the cinema, a Julie Christie movie, I think. What have you planned?”
“Oh I’ll probably give David a call, see if he is up for an after theatre drink. He likes that bar where all the gays hang out. I think I’ll be safe there.”
After a couple of drinks t
hey said their goodbyes and headed their separate ways into the night. David and Miriam had this routine on a Saturday of meeting up with a few of his friends after the ballet. The bar was tucked in a tiny alleyway behind the theatre. Its’ outer windows bowed out like a ship with the warm lights willing you inside. The ceilings were low and you had to duck slightly so as not to bang your head. The pub was full of theatrical types exclaiming “Darling how are you?” The voices were so loud and affected, it felt like you were in the theatre. Miriam spied David animatedly talking to some of his darlings in the corner and drew up a stool next to him.
“Hello gorgeous, how’s my favorite queenie? I’ve bought you a glass of wine already. I want to hear all the goss.”
“There is no goss David!” she said slapping his knee. He let out one of those belly aching laughs, then swigged his pint and whispered in her ear. “You forget my darling, I saw you with him last night. There are quite a few tongues wagging, I can assure you.”
“He gave me his card. So what!”
“You’d better play hard to get with that one. He has quite a reputation with the ladies.”
“Don’t ruin this one for me David.”
“You’re quite smitten. I can tell.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Oh it will.”
The noise levels got louder and louder. More people were now piling out of the theatre, desperate to get to the bar for last orders. Sometimes these pubs had “lock ins” but this was at the discretion of the Landlord. Guys were openly hugging each other with wanton abandon celebrating their last performance on stage that evening. Many were still in their ballet costumes and covered in make-up, gesticulating with their arms in a theatrical manner. Miriam loved being part of this crowd. They would always flirt with you but they never felt a threat to you, because you knew they only had eyes for their own. Women interested them, to be emulated, revered even adored, but not to take home with them. She felt safe in this world, away from the world of real men. If Len was anything to go by, real men threatened her, threatened to take away the one true feeling left, of love. Had she fallen for this man or was it just a dream? She wanted to see him again, but was frightened of the consequences. No one had affected her like this. She was aching to see him again.
Abandoned Love Page 3